Colonel Miller from Vermont, one of our American delegation, was in the Greek war with Lord Byron.  As Lady Byron had expressed a wish to see him, that her daughter might know something of her father’s last days, an interview was arranged, and the colonel kindly invited me to accompany him.  His account of their acquaintance and the many noble traits of character Lord Byron manifested, his generous impulses and acts of self-sacrifice, seemed particularly gratifying to the daughter.  It was a sad interview, arranged chiefly for the daughter’s satisfaction, though Lady Byron listened with a painful interest.  As the colonel was a warm admirer of the great poet, he no doubt represented him in the best possible light, and his narration of his last days was deeply interesting.  Lady Byron had a quiet, reserved manner, a sad face, and a low, plaintive voice, like one who had known deep sorrow.  I had seen her frequently in the convention and at social teas, and had been personally presented to her before this occasion.  Altogether I thought her a sweet, attractive-looking woman.

We had a pleasant interview with Lord Brougham also.  The Philadelphia Anti-slavery Society sent him an elaborately carved inkstand, made from the wood of Pennsylvania Hall, which was destroyed by a pro-slavery mob.  Mr. Birney made a most graceful speech in presenting the memento, and Lord Brougham was equally happy in receiving it.

One of the most notable characters we met at this time was Daniel O’Connell.  He made his first appearance in the London convention a few days after the women were rejected.  He paid a beautiful tribute to woman and said that, if he had been present when the question was under discussion, he should have spoken and voted for their admission.  He was a tall, well-developed, magnificent-looking man, and probably one of the most effective speakers Ireland ever produced.  I saw him at a great India meeting in Exeter Hall, where some of the best orators from France, America, and England were present.  There were six natives from India on the platform who, not understanding anything that was said, naturally remained listless throughout the proceedings.  But the moment O’Connell began to speak they were all attention, bending forward and closely watching every movement.  One could almost tell what he said from the play of his expressive features, his wonderful gestures, and the pose of his whole body.  When he finished, the natives joined in the general applause.  He had all Wendell Phillips’ power of sarcasm and denunciation, and added to that the most tender pathos.  He could make his audience laugh or cry at pleasure.  It was a rare sight to see him dressed in “Repeal cloth” in one of his Repeal meetings.  We were in Dublin in the midst of that excitement, when the hopes of new liberties for that oppressed people all centered on O’Connell.  The enthusiasm of the people for the Repeal of the Union was then at white-heat.  Dining one day with the “Great Liberator,” as he was called, I asked him if he hoped to carry that measure.